


then what we've got is gold

by gentleau (iwanna_seeyou_undoit)



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Dirk is very nervous, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, and todd loves him, and very insecure, he's a big gay baby, i have also decided that todd and dirk moved into a different apartment building, i started about 2 eps into season 2, isn't that nice, so not everything is perfect but hey!, so... not very much, the boys are in love and that's all that matters, todd still has pararibulitus, well... about as much as he did in s2, which means now they have a bedroom and an ensuite bathroom, with bigger flats and more rooms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-17 01:05:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13065930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwanna_seeyou_undoit/pseuds/gentleau
Summary: Dirk has never had a romantic relationship before. So now that it appears he is in the process of one such relationship with Todd, it is… startling.Or, in which Dirk is scared that he can't be what Todd deserves, and Todd tries his best to convince him that that isn't true. Featuring: a lot (and I mean a lot) of cuddling, thirty seven cast-iron pans, and one novelty condom.





	then what we've got is gold

**Author's Note:**

> I want to first of all start by saying a massive, massive thank you to [my wonderful beta,](http://thats-entirely-too-much-tuna.tumblr.com/) who curbed all of my attempts to include as many made-up words as possible (cokeroin addict, anyone?), wrangled many sentences of frankly ridiculous length into shape, and left some of the nicest comments I've ever received alongside it all. All this while juggling a fic of her own (which I haven't read but cannot wait to), and other betaing commitments. Thank you so much, you're the true hero here. 
> 
> Also! Being a Big Bang, there is of course [some truly magnificent art](http://dont-offend-the-bees.tumblr.com/post/168959920227/and-here-we-are-my-final-contribution-to-the) to accompany this fic, as well as a bonus playlist, which was a happy little holiday surprise for me! I don't think it's possible for you to get as excited about it as I still am, but please do check it out. Make it into wallpaper, make t-shirts out of it... (with permission, of course)... Thank you thank you thank you for the wonderful job you've done, I couldn't be happier with it <3
> 
> Annnnd (if you're still with me), I want to disclaim that the title is stolen from Stay the Night by James Blunt and it's a fabulous song even without Brotzly connections but... do go listen, I think it's quite apt. Also, I own none of these characters, all rights are reserved to their proper owners, and I tried to follow the general(ish) arc of Series 2 as closely(ish) as I could. I hope you enjoy, because I had a blast writing this.
> 
> Edit: How exciting is this?? The lovely [@ jessie-woods](http://jessie-woods.tumblr.com) on tumblr has translated [this into Russian](https://ficbook.net/readfic/6399623/16366774)

Dirk has never had a romantic relationship before. He supposes this fact doesn’t come as a surprise—he’s never had a friend before Todd, has he? Not for lack of trying (the friend thing and the… the relationship thing).

He’s been informed he has an Intimacy Problem. A sort-of-therapist had suggested he was too personally invested in what people thought of him. They were probably right. Granted, they were almost certainly a meth head, and Dirk had been sitting belly-button deep in the Thames at the time, but the truth doesn’t stop being true just because you’re uncomfortably close to probably-used-but-hopefully-not needles. 

Anyway, the point is, romantic relationships (any relationships) are not Dirk’s forte. So now that it appears he is in the process of one such relationship with Todd, it is… startling. For many reasons.

Reason One: Dirk has no idea how it happened. _He_ certainly doesn't have the qualifications to have  initiated one, though Farah _had_ dedicated quite a significant portion of their conversations to teasing him about the way he looked at Todd. It’s not like it was Dirk’s fault. He could hardly control his face. It wasn’t his fault Todd had such… big, beautiful blue eyes.

He digresses.

Reason Two: Prior to this Relationship Thing of theirs, Todd had not appeared to be anything other than straight. Well… if he had exhibited signs of fancying boys, the signs definitely had not pointed toward Dirk. Todd’s type was more the disturbingly bronzed and muscled men. Not that- not that Dirk has anything against bronzed and muscled men, it’s just that… well. They’re rather intimidating, actually. And anything that involves cutting out _sugar_ can hardly be considered a wise life-choice.

It’s really rather a good thing Todd hardly ever encountered those sorts of men in real life. Dirk dreads to think what it would do to him. The lack of sugar, or carbohydrates or… well. Anything fun. Except, apparently, the muscles, though Dirk fails to see the appeal.

Reason Three: Somewhat linked to Reason One, really. Dirk has never had a relationship before. Even before Todd began to be his friend (well, before he admitted it), Dirk had decided that Todd was his Person. Like a soulmate but… more _proper_ . More concrete. Anyone could just _decide_ to have a soulmate, there were _hundreds_ of soulmates out there, probably. But a Person. A Person was… well, Dirk had never thought about it before Todd. Dirk wants to spend his entire life with him.

He wishes Todd had grown up in England. Then they could have met as _toddlers!_ He could have _really_ spent his entire life with Todd that way! He supposes _he_ could have grown up in Seattle, but it just seems… not _wrong,_ but a bit… iffy. Todd seems to find Dirk’s accent rather endearing. He wouldn’t have _endeared_ himself to Todd if he had grown up in Seattle. Would have lost the accent entirely. Even now, sometimes (more often than Dirk is entirely comfortable with), Todd points out that he has slipped into using an Americanism.

The worst moment was when Dirk accidentally misspelled ‘organisational’ with a ‘z.’ And called tomato sauce ketchup. It was _most_ alarming. His accent is one of the best things about him. Or so he’s been told.

Reason Four: This is really how Reason Three should have ended if Dirk hadn’t gotten distracted by the alarming habit Americans had of spelling things _incorrectly_. Dirk has never done this before, and Todd is his Person, and Dirk really, very much does not want to lose him. Even before they started, well… kissing and holding hands and doing relationship things, Dirk had been worried about losing him.

He’s lied. (Once. He had excuses. Very valid excuses, he thinks. He’s been _very_ careful to ensure it doesn’t happen again.) He is annoying. (Todd tells him all the time. Although now, he’s usually touching some part of Dirk: often an elbow or a shoulder but sometimes (lovelytimes) he is holding his hand.)

Dirk is many, many other things people don’t usually look for in their Romantic Relationships.

It is incredibly stressful to worry about how to act and behave and look at Todd and talk to Todd and just generally _exist_ in the same area as Todd in a way that doesn’t encourage him toward a decision that ends with Dirk no longer sleeping in his bed nor holding exclusive-Todd-kissing privileges.

There are more reasons (Dirk once counted up to and at least twenty-five) that being engaged in a Romantic Relationship with Todd is alarming. Most of them inevitably cycle back to his inexperience, general inadequacy in human relationships, insatiable urge to talk for what could be literally hours on end, and general emotional instability. His ‘Intimacy Problems.’

He has a list for what that means. He has a lot of lists. It’s something a different, but definitely not-a-therapist, meth head had taught him. Although, actually, on second thought, he might have been a heroin addict. Possibly also a dedicated user of cocaine and morphine. (Dirk has an oddly comprehensive experience with drug users for someone who has never touched a cigarette in his life.)

The cocaine/heroin user (cokeroin man?) had made lists of what he took, so when he overdosed, the hospital knew what to do for him. Dirk had thought it was a nice habit—the lists, not the heroin. Once the universe had availed him of a notebook, he’d decided lists could be his thing. Another one of his things.

Intimacy problem 1: He is touch starved. (He knows that, doesn’t need anyone telling him _that_ particular nugget.)

Intimacy problem 2: He wants to be loved. Searches it out. (Possibly to his own detriment. He never gets it but… bloody _hell_ , does he look for it.)

Intimacy problem 3: He has stopped believing he will ever find it.

Intimacy problem 4: Which doesn’t matter, because he has stopped thinking he deserves it.

Intimacy problem 5: He is somewhat scared of being touched. (He doesn’t know what to _do_ with himself. He’s afraid of how much he likes it, the way it sets his blood fizzing and heart racing. In Dirk’s experience, every time he finds something genuinely good in his life, the universe takes it away. Touching, being touched, it’s… tempting fate. It makes him feel cared for. Noticed. He wouldn’t know what to do if he allowed himself that privilege, only to have it disappear.) He doesn’t know how to respond to those feelings, is sure he really should be doing something for the other person in return, instead of just standing there, uselessly.

Which leads tidily into intimacy problem 6: He is scared of not knowing what to do. (In a different ‘not knowing what to do’ way than his cases.)

He is certain there are more problems. He has filled nine entire pages in his notebook on this subject alone. He does have a habit of repeating himself and forgetting what he’s already written, so it’s perhaps not as impressive as it sounds, and Dirk has rather large, very _There_ sort of handwriting, but nevertheless. Nine pages. More pages than the usual person has.

All these lists emphasise how not suitable Dirk Gently is for a Romantic Relationship with Todd Brotzman. And how utterly, utterly _terrifying_ it is to be in one with him. To have _been_ in one with him for _over two months_.

It’s not as though Dirk doesn’t know what a Romantic Relationship entails. The problem is that Dirk is having trouble conceptualising ‘it all’ in relation to himself and Todd.

So far, they’ve done a fair bit of kissing, some hand-holding (though Dirk is _hyper_ -aware of his clammy palms), and some general we-could-pass-this-off-as-a-friends-thing hugging. It’s all been very, very lovely. Dirk has grown quite used to the pleasant bubbly sensation in his stomach. No complaints.

But… It’s all very above-the-belt and, well, Dirk’s _seen_ films. He knows there are certain expectations placed on these things. He doesn’t mean sex things, although obviously that’s on the horizon too. Like he said, it’s difficult to apply what he _knows_ about Romantic Relationships to _his_ particular relationship.

For example, he has been informed by almost every form of romantic media that a kiss in the rain is an _essential_ part of having a proper romantic relationship, though he doesn’t quite know why. It seems like an excellent way of drowning on land. And getting wet socks. Nothing worse than soggy feet. Conjures up images of trench foot and all manner of other unsightly grievances. He is sure that it’s not something Todd would find particularly alluring, either, but it still troubles him.

The _real_ issue, perhaps, is that Dirk is having difficulty being _close_ to Todd. It seems the distance (no, wrong word… the hesitancy) has gone on for long enough that there’s not much he can do to change the situation. A bit like when you’ve been in a conversation with someone for some time and you can’t remember their name. You can hardly just _ask them_ , you have to wait for it to come up in some other manner, and then _jump on it_. Carpe diem. Seize the name. Seize the intimacy.  

The first time Todd kissed him, high on the utter terror and adrenaline of out-running a gunman, Dirk had been ecstatic. Absolutely, positively thrilled. He hadn’t been able to believe the universe had sent him _here_ : crouched behind a skip, with an assisfriend who was really a _best friend_ who was now (maybe, possibly, oh please) a boyfriend.

It was wonderful.

Dirk’s utter contentment with the world had manifested itself in a happy little whine. He’d pressed himself closer (though he’s not sure how either of them managed it) and clutched very tightly at Todd’s coat. (It wouldn’t do to lose him, after all.)

A few weeks into their whatever-it-was, when Dirk was still getting used to being able to _touch_ , and Todd was still acclimatising to opening himself up, Todd had expressed amusement at Dirk’s reaction to their first kiss. The reaction he’d assumed Todd hadn’t noticed.

They were sharing the sofa, a few socially acceptable centimetres apart, when it happened.

“I can’t believe you nuzzled me.”

Freeze. Dirk shifted away. A shame—too far to smell Todd.

“Pardon?”

Oh. Todd’s smirk’s are rather nice, aren’t they.

“You. When I kissed you, behind the… You nuzzled me.”

Bad. This was very, very bad.

“I did no such thing!”

“Dirk. You pushed your face at me. I can still feel it-”

“I’m sorry. I-”

“Hey, no. Shush. It was a good thing. It _is_ a good thing.”

“I- Oh. Well.” He shook the tension in his shoulders out, tugged at the hem of his shirt. “I was _sure_ you hadn’t noticed.” Dirk was still embarrassed, but it was nice to know Todd… liked it? Or just didn’t mind it. There was a difference, after all. Dirk doesn’t _mind_ clotted cream but he definitely doesn’t _like_ it.  

Todd had shifted closer, tucked a finger under Dirk’s collar. The heat soothed Dirk’s worry, just a little. “’Course I noticed. And I _liked_ it. You’re like a cat. Now,” he said, scooting his hips in Dirk’s direction, “c’mere.”

Todd is, Dirk’s learning, surprisingly astute for someone who claims to be a horrible person. Dirk can’t remember the last time someone noticed he needed a hug. (Honestly, he can’t remember the last time he had a hug at all.)

If he had to pick a time, Dirk would say that that conversation was when he started really thinking (worrying) about his suitability for this. (For Todd.)

Their hug had been stiff—Dirk had worried about doing it _right_ , and making sure his hair wasn’t tickling Todd too much, and wondering if he smelled, and concentrating on not breathing too much or too little and not sneezing on Todd’s aftershave…

The whole thing had been very Not Romantic.

After that, Todd starts initiating contact more. General contact, like how he brushes against Dirk on the way to the bathroom, or rests his hand on the small of his back in the kitchen. Hand-holding, too. Dirk had thought, in the beginning, that Todd wouldn’t want to hold his hand in public. He’d been okay with that, really. Todd wasn’t a particularly demonstrative individual at the best of times—one could hardly expect him to happily flaunt their relationship.

Dirk was happy to be proven wrong.

The day after The Hug, he’d been fiddling with his seatbelt when Todd had leaned across the gear shift and wrapped Dirk’s hand in his own. Once Dirk had gotten over the fact that Todd was _holding his hand_ and how lovely that felt, he’d acknowledged to himself how glad he was that Todd’s hands were sort of clammy too.

What a relief. He had been having visions of swaddling his palms in handkerchiefs whenever Todd wanted to touch him.

So the hand-holding becomes a regular thing. The hugging, as much as Dirk _adores_ it, remains very much a private occurrence. Which Dirk has no problem with. Being that close to Todd—pressed up against his front, being able to smell him and touch him and hold him for as long as he wants (well, not quite that long, Dirk wants to hold Todd forever and ever)—feels like a very personal, private thing.

They don’t kiss in front of other people, something which had initially worried Dirk very much. Kissing feels like something they ought to keep to themselves, much like the hugging. But Dirk had once attended a group for failing marriages , and there had been several people who felt their partner was ashamed of being affectionate in public. The fact that he and Todd were _already_ being lax about their public demonstrations of affection was surely not a good sign.

It had taken a few days of alternately sulking, and worriedly watching all manner of romantic media that contained at least one Passionate Public Kiss, and then another two or three days of kissing Todd any time, any place he had the chance, before he voiced his concerns.

“Dirk,” Todd had said, very seriously. “Every relationship is different. We kiss, like, a normal amount, I think? Maybe… maybe less than norma- I think we kiss- you know, I’m happy with it. Does it… Is it something _you_ mind? I mean…” He sounded distinctly terrified now. “I don’t… I don’t think it’s a bad- We can do it more if that’s what you… is that what you want?”

Suitably consoled now that he didn’t think his relationship was abnormal, Dirk had offered Todd a small, content smile. “Nope. I think that’s very much a thing we don’t need to worry about. Films are silly, anyway. Don’t need an audience for kissing.”

“Wanna prove it?”

Todd’s smirk is _dangerous_. Makes Dirk want to do all manner of inappropriate things.

 

All this to say, Dirk is slowly working on his Intimacy Issues. Through a process of immersion, he’s begun to allow himself to seek out physical contact with Todd, and begun to recognise that Todd wants to _touch him back_.

It’s hard for Dirk to believe. He knows that Todd cares for him, perhaps even very deeply, but even so, Dirk hardly thinks Todd could love him like he loves Todd. The amount of affection Dirk feels for him is alarming. Wonderful, but… alarming. Dirk cannot imagine how anyone could feel the sheer pressure of affection welling up inside him without spontaneously combusting. Perhaps it’s another one of Dirk’s… things. Perhaps he simply feels things more.

He hopes he can satisfy Todd enough that he’ll overlook the fact that he doesn’t love Dirk, that Dirk can never be an appropriate Romantic Partner. But, like he’s already said, he’s seen films. He knows what comes after the kissing and the hugging and the hand-holding.

Never mind the fact that he’s never experienced it, Dirk hasn’t the slightest clue how to approach sex, or even if he’ll be able to process it all. Just Todd hugging him, separated by their clothes, is enough to set Dirk’s nerves alight. He shall have to conduct much research if he hopes to ever measure up to what Todd expects—to what Todd _deserves_.

-xxx-

Dirk has been acting shady for _days_ . Todd probably wouldn’t have even noticed it if it weren’t for the case with the hedgehogs. Dirk had somehow managed to get stabbed in the back on four separate occasions by three separate hedgehogs—a very painful experience for everyone involved: Dirk because he had hedgehog spines in his shoulders, Todd and Farah because Dirk is an _awful_ patient.

At least Farah had had the luxury of leaving, Todd has to stay and try to pretend that Dirk’s constant requests and whining and _quite_ a significant amount of crying don’t simultaneously annoy him and create a swell of pity.

Todd had offered to give Dirk a back rub (and, despite his irritation, was actually quite looking forward to it). Halfway through massaging antiseptic cream into the pinky-red puncture wounds, Dirk’s shoulders had tensed up and his quiet breathing had stopped entirely. Todd, sitting (quite comfortably, he had thought) on Dirk’s upper thighs, had clambered off his boyfriend. (Boyfriend, wow.)

“Dirk? You okay?”

“Hm? Oh, yes, quite! Very okay. I think…” Todd averted his eyes as Dirk squirmed his way into a sitting position and made a show of shaking out his shoulders. “Yes. I’m not feeling even the slightest discomfort anymore,” Dirk said. “Bravo Todd.” And then he left the bedroom before Todd could call him out on the obvious lie.

From then on, whenever they get remotely close to each other for any significant period of time, Dirk finds some excuse or other to leave. He doesn’t shun Todd’s affection—far from it. He’s still Dirk, still pushes his face at Todd, demanding kisses, still burrows into Todd’s neck when they hug, still keeps up his proudly possessive grip on Todd’s hand in public. It’s just… it’s as if Dirk is _scared_ of being too intimate with Todd…

_Oh._

Todd knew when they started this that Dirk had had very little experience in that area. The guy said he never had friends (something which absolutely _wrenched_ Todd’s heart when he thought about it), so it was unlikely he’d had a relationship before Todd.

Armed with this knowledge, Todd can solve their little problem. He’ll let Dirk know he has no expectations for this thing they have, and he’ll get his clingy boyfriend back.

In reality, it doesn’t quite go that smoothly.

Well, it does… to begin with. Ish.

“Hey, Dirk?” Todd doesn’t quite ambush his boyfriend in the bathroom, but some may interpret it as such. “Can we talk?”

Hair a riot from the rigorous towelling he’s been giving it, Dirk nods slowly. He clutches the hem of the towel closer around his waist and steps gingerly past Todd and into the bedroom. “Is… this about the microwave? Because, really, I _will_ replace it.”  
  
“No, Dirk it’s… it’s not about the microwave.” With Dirk perched on the end of the mattress (it’s almost _their_ mattress, with how often Dirk sleeps at Todd’s), eyes wide in nervous anticipation, hair looking like he’s been dragged backwards through a hedge, Todd’s own anxiety grows. “It’s about… about us?”

The expression on Dirk’s face, as if he’s been expecting this for a long time, as if Todd has vacuumed all the light and happiness out of him, hurts something deep inside of Todd. He scrambles to reassure Dirk.

“Not, not like… I’m not breaking up with you! I… it’s just about the othe--”

“The other night?” Dirk sounds utterly defeated. “I _knew_ that would come up at some point,” he says, almost as if he’s forgotten Todd is in the room at all. “ _Stupid_ Dirk!” He shakes his head violently, then raises his gaze to Todd. “I’ll do better. You can… you can,” he hedges, flapping his hand around vaguely, “do whatever. I just… tell me? So I can do… research, and make it good for you?”

So this is what people meant when they said they felt they’d has the very core sucked out of them. “No, Dirk! That’s not… at _all_ what I meant.” Judging by the crestfallen expression on Dirk’s face, he’s misread Todd. (Again.)

“You don’t wan--”

“Of course I want you! I just don’t want you doing shit you don’t want to do!” Todd may be shitty, but even he isn’t _that_ shitty. “I just wanted to, like, let you know that I don’t have any expectations and that whatever you want to do—however slow you want to go, or even if you never want to do some things… it’s all good. It’s… I don’t care. I’m not going to leave you for it and I don’t expect us to ever… do anything… ever. If you… if you never want to.”

Good _God,_ this is an awkward conversation.

Dirk is sitting at the foot of the bed doing that confused head-tilty thing he does when he’s mulling over a particularly complex case. He opens and closes his mouth without saying anything so many times, Todd begins to worry he’s broken him. Eventually Dirk clears his throat with a very shaky cough.

“Um. Todd. Just to clarify… you are talking about sex, correct?”

“Yes, Dirk,” Todd sighs.

After another long, painful pause, Dirk’s face brightens and he sits bolt upright, as if some invisible string attached to his shoulder blades had been suddenly pulled taut. “Well. Thank you. In that case, may I kiss you now?”

Todd goes easily. Dirk’s arms wrap around his back with pleased determination. Todd gets a faceful of damp, twice-conditioned hair, and dips his smile into Dirk’s bare collarbone. He kisses the soft skin, and the ghost of his anxiety is chased away by the delighted giggle Dirk gives in response to the rasp of Todd’s stubble against his shoulder.

It has, to begin with, gone smoothly(ish), indeed.

-xxx-

And then Dirk starts picking up on Todd getting hard. It doesn’t happen immediately, and Todd does a pretty good job of hiding it from Dirk to begin with, but with Dirk in Todd’s lap doing his best impression of a bird itching its pin feathers against Todd’s shoulder, it’s difficult to hide a boner.

Dirk, perpetually touch-starved and entirely unselfconscious about demanding the highest amount of physical contact possible, has recently developed a habit of all but climbing into Todd’s lap any time they’re sitting together. The result of which is that an innocent cuddle often turns into a session of heavy petting.

Dirk is always moving, wriggling his hips in apparently subconscious circles, hips grinding into Todd’s, squirming his shoulders forward and around and sliding _big, warm_ hands under Todd’s shirt, continuing the nuzzling thing that’s become his habit now that he knows the extent of Todd’s positive feelings about it. It’s the sweetest thing in the world, honestly, but it doesn’t help to reduce the full… degree of Todd’s physical reaction to being anywhere near Dirk.

Dirk is a very physical individual. Todd knows (or suspects) about his boyfriend's attitude to touch: that is, he thinks it’s good, and he requires as much of it as he can get. If he hadn't picked up on it from the nuzzling and the melting into hugs, he would have worked it out from the absolute openness of a sleeping Dirk. After their conversation about taking sex off the table, Dirk has all but moved into Todd’s bed. Which, while totally lovely, has put the brakes on any cursory, Dirk-related wanking Todd may have indulged in previously.

Every night without fail, Dirk falls asleep with at least one limb touching Todd, radiating truly impressive amounts of heat . He progresses through stages one and two of sleep without any significant movement, but once he reaches deep, REM sleep, gaining any freedom from his grabby octopus limbs is impossible.

Todd has lost count of the amount of times he's woken up to a pleasantly heavy weight across his chest and stomach, Dirk still fast asleep, his breath a humid heat on Todd’s neck, a puddle of drool against his clavicle. And, unfortunately for Todd's sanity and frankly hearty libido, a soft, warm thigh inserted confidently between his legs.

It's not that Dirk hasn’t got a boner around Todd either, it's just that… well, they don't seem to bother him. He can apparently will them away. Holistically.

After the fourth time they wake pressed together, the pleasantly warm pressure in Todd’s groin giving way to a nauseating mixture of guilt and (he hates himself) disappointment, Todd begins forcing himself out of bed. And he _is_ forcing himself.

Dirk is always so warm—warm and soft, and he smells like fresh laundry and fancy shampoo. He is most beautiful like that—breath reeking and hair a mess, unaware and totally at peace. Todd… he loves Dirk most in the mornings, maybe because, with Dirk unconscious, he doesn’t have to pretend not to.

So Todd forces himself out of bed, glares at the unwanted erection between his legs, and takes a long, cold shower. Dirk always complained he used all the hot water, anyway. Mornings: solved.

Kissing on the couch, watching Dirk wander the house in his singlet and underwear, cuddling in bed, hell, even standing near each other in the kitchen while Dirk cuts onions and pretends they don’t make him cry: still a problem.

If Dirk is in bed, he only notices Todd’s absence when he wakes up. He doesn’t turn big, sad eyes to watch Todd extricate himself from their sheets, doesn’t run longing fingers against the edges Todd’s cuffs, soft skin a ticklish tease that Todd is almost not strong enough to resist. When he is awake enough to notice Todd’s surge of desire, the physical reaction he wishes he could control, Dirk’s expression hurts so much it’s as if Todd has been electrocuted all over again.

He wishes he could stay, could be the boyfriend Dirk deserves and so obviously needs. He wishes he had the strength of will to prevent the inappropriate boners. Instead, he has only the ability to ignore them, and he would continue to do so for the rest of his life if it didn’t mean causing deep discomfort for the one person in his life he’s managed to convince to stay.

Todd, for all he wants to be able to press close to Dirk, to let the arousal simmer at the back of his brain, present but undemanding, cannot. Sex makes Dirk uncomfortable. Sex is off the table. Erections are an inappropriate display of everything Todd promised not to do.

More than anything, more than the sweet comfort he knows he could take from remaining close to Dirk, Todd wants to be worthy of him. God knows he’s done enough, lied enough, yelled enough, to render that privilege moot, but Dirk has stayed through it all.

Todd refuses to do anything to jeopardise that.

-xxx-

It’s official. Dirk is right. He is always right… Usually. That is to say, he’d had a hunch, and his hunches always turn out to be right… sometimes just in a very roundabout sort of way. Anyway. He is right.

He knew Todd would grow tired of him. He would try, of course, would try and try and _try_ (because one of Dirk's favourite things about Todd is his stubbornness) to be okay with Dirk's issues. After Todd had told him they were taking sex off the table, he'd allowed himself to hope. Perhaps Todd really _didn't_ care. Perhaps he would be content to wait for Dirk to sort through all his hang-ups and insecurities. Perhaps Dirk could _keep him._

But as the universe had so often illustrated, hope is a fool’s game. Just as Dirk had predicted, his issues were too much for even Todd’s stubbornness to overcome. Todd is pulling away, pushing _him_ away.

Dirk isn't an idiot. He notices when a very attractive man is pressing an erection into his hip. He notices when Todd disappears into the bathroom for a cold shower, or when he stands in the kitchen, pressed close to the cupboards with defeated shoulders. He knows Todd has been ignoring his erections, and he knows it's his fault he has to do so in the first place.

Dirk has to do _something._ But what?

Which is how he ends up sat at the kitchen table, shredding an orange peel and sobbing. Well… not sobbing, exactly, but definitely… definitely having difficulty breathing, and definitely rather damp-cheeked.

He had decided, after waking up to another morning of cold sheets and a quiet, withdrawn Todd, to do some… research. Into sex.

He’d believed Todd when he said they didn’t have to do anything. He believes that Todd _thought_ he was telling the truth when he’d promised he wouldn’t leave Dirk over it. But Todd is already pushing him away.

He keeps leaving whenever he gets hard, and sometimes he doesn’t even wait for that—two days ago, he’d begun shunning Dirk’s attempts to drape himself over him, wouldn’t let Dirk rest his head in his lap… Those moments of quiet, comfortable intimacy are some of Dirk’s favourites. It is when Todd fully relaxes around him, when the tension bleeds out of him and his hand finds its way into Dirk’s hair and he scratches _just so_ ; when Dirk can nuzzle his face into Todd’s shirt, into the barely-there layer of soft fabric over his stomach and breathe him in.

Dirk loves those moments. And because of his own reticence, his own inability to _act like a normal human being for once in his life_ , he’s jeopardised it all.

He’s got to get better.

So. The research.

A few quick Google searches had taken him exactly where he needed to be. The colour of the site had been an immediate point against the whole endeavour—not only did orange remind him of… his time away, the black background hurt his head. Anyway. The site design isn’t the point here. Neither are the frankly disturbing adverts, which contain a lot of flashing words and demanding slogans… Needless to say, Dirk is very, very much out of his depth.

He’d thought it would get better once he got onto the actual _business end_ of the matter, as it were. He’d thought that, once he trialled a few duds, he’d find the perfect category and selection of videos, and he’d be able to concentrate on what the men were doing, and then work on being perfect for Todd.

Not so.

Dirk hadn’t been able to finish the first video he’d found. It was clear the two men in frame had _zero_ fondness for one another, all growled demands and grabby hands. The second video had been worse: there had been no talking at all and an alarming array of what appeared to be instruments of torture.

The third video, the one currently playing on screen, at least contains some small measure of tenderness. The two men exchange a sweet kiss at the beginning, and keep up a steady stream of encouragement while they undress. It’s once they’re naked that it all begins to go a bit… wrong.

The one with too many muscles and too much body hair pulls his partner’s arse cheeks apart and spits over his hole. He presses two large, rough fingers over his own saliva, rubs it around. His partner, a slender blond with skin that _must_ be the result of a skin regimen stricter than Dirk’s own, rolls onto his knees, bottom high in the air. So exposed.

Dirk barely has time to register all this before the largest penis he has ever seen (not seen any except his own, though, has he?) is rubbing itself over the blond’s hole, bulging with veins and positively dripping. Not only does it all look disgustingly unhygienic and _sticky_ , but Dirk has no _clue_ how something that big would fit inside. He has visions of gore and screaming and trips to the emergency room. By the time Muscles jams himself into the blond, Dirk has lost control of his breathing.

As it all continues (the scrub bar claims to still have ten full minutes remaining), both men grunting monosyllables and barely touching anymore, except in the necessary places, Dirk realises he needs something to do with his hands to stop himself slamming the laptop shut and ruining this entire endeavour.

Methodically peeling an orange distracts him for four minutes, by which time Muscles is prodding at the place where his own penis enters the blond, fingers huge and demanding and… No! That cannot be biologically possible.

Dirk notices the tears on his cheeks and the shredded orange peel, but he doesn’t notice Todd return, shopping in hand. Muscles ejaculates inside the blond with a long, animalistic grunt at the exact moment that Todd’s hand grips Dirk’s shoulders, pulling him away from the computer and into his arms.

“Oh, Dirk, c’mere,” Todd croons. “You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re safe, okay? I’ve got you, you’re safe.”

-xxx-

So. That had been a complete disaster, and to top it off, Todd thinks he’s a total headcase. Dirk was hyperventilating over a perfectly normal porn video, after all. Todd must think he’s defective. A boyfriend who doesn’t have _any_ experience with _any_ of this, whose reticence towards sex is so off-putting and unnatural that Todd won’t even let himself be anywhere near Dirk when he’s aroused. Pathetic.

Dirk had been sure that if he only did enough research, if he could compare and contrast and work out how to apply all the noise and the sweat and the mess and the… unnatural contortion of it all to himself and Todd, that he’d be able to stumble his way through an adequate first time.

Now, curled up on the couch in an old jumper of Todd’s, watching him stir sugar into Dirk’s tea, he can’t believe he’d been so naive. He’s never even really made himself cum before; how can he do that for Todd? In front of Todd? He’s useless.

“Here,” Todd says. “Just… drink this.” He perches on the edge of Dirk’s sofa cushion as if he wants to offer physical comfort but is scared Dirk won’t welcome it. To ensure he knows exactly how ridiculous that thought is, Dirk wraps both hands around his mug and stretches one foot in Todd’s direction. He wiggles his toes. Todd gets the hint. “Jesus, Dirk. Your feet are _freezing_.” Todd’s hands are, as always, pleasantly warm.

They sit there, Dirk’s foot in Todd’s lap, focusing on breathing and staying still and on not thinking about what’s hovering unsaid between them until Dirk’s cup is empty and there are no more excuses to keep not-talking.

Todd clears his throat. “Do you… want to, uh, explain? What that was?”

“It's, uh, nothing. Everything's fine, Todd. Not _fine_ fine, obviously, but… not terrible.” His toes twitch under Todd's hand. “That is to say, I think you should see other people.”

Todd is silent for a very long time. He stops rearranging Dirk's sock. The seam sits uncomfortably under his foot. It becomes obvious he isn't going to say anything any time soon.

“You know,” Dirk clarifies, “just to sleep with.”

It doesn't help Todd's silence. It should have. Romantic Relationships are all about communication and Dirk may not be good at those, but he's pretty good at communication. Sometimes. When he remembers to be.

“In secret.” He is clearly going to have to keep explaining. The thing with Todd is that it often takes a very long time for him to realise the truth or brilliance of a thing. He takes his foot out of Todd’s lap. “Not secret-secret like cheating secret, just. Secret. From me. I'd know you might do it but I wouldn't know for sure. I don't think I could cope with knowing, so just… you know… do it secretly.”

And, well. That's it. That's all Dirk really has to say. He's thought about it for the past hour and a half. Has thought about it since the start of the Awful Orange Porn Video. In truth, he's been considering it since their conversation in the bedroom. He's got nothing left to say.

Finally Todd remembers how to speak.

“What the _fuck_ , Dirk?”

“Well clearly I can't have sex.” He waves his hands at the pile of orange peel still on their kitchen table. “So you'll have to find it somewhere else. We can keep kissing and cuddling and going to sleep together, and you can have sex with other people so we can stay being boyfriends.”

Another (unbearably long) pause. Then Todd frowns. “Wait. Dirk. You think you need to have sex with me in order to be my boyfriend? No,” he shifts toward Dirk, “shut up. I understand your stupid plan. You think I need sex to want to want to be with you? Romantically?”

“I… well… yes? No?” What was the right answer here? _God,_ this was so bloody difficult!

“Dirk,” Todd's voice is soft. His hand brushes over Dirk’s knee. “I don't need sex. From you or anyone else. Especially not anyone else. I survived long enough with just my hand, I think I can manage until… and even if you never… want to have sex, I can manage. I'll do more than manage. I'll be happy. Just to… to call you my boyfriend. That may work for other people, the seeing different people stuff, but not… not for me. Dirk. Okay? Enough of this. You're more than enough for me.”

Despite the whole thing being Dirk’s idea in the first place, he feels a weight lifting off him at Todd’s promise. “Okay,” he pulls his legs up under himself on the sofa. “Thank you. I don’t… I don't know if I'll ever be… well. But perhaps, one day, we could… try? If I were?”

Todd tugs Dirk’s arm until he collapses sideways into Todd’s shoulder. “Of course, Dirk. You just say the word. And if you never do… that's fine. Okay? Okay. Now promise me no more making yourself cry watching terrible porn?”

Todd’s neck is warm and safe and Dirk doesn’t want to pull his face out of it to answer, so he presses tiny dry kisses against the skin in lieu of speaking. Todd understands. He always does.

-xxx-

Now that all their cards are on the table, now that Dirk has thanked him for not demanding sex (God, even thinking about it makes Todd feel sick with guilt), it all gets much, much better. Todd feels like his heart could burst. He stops pulling out of their hugs, stops turning all their kisses into close-mouthed, chaste little pecks, starts initiating contact with Dirk without hesitation. And Dirk returns it with unbounded enthusiasm. It all goes back to the way it had been before Todd began overthinking everything.

Sure, he still gets hard when Dirk becomes a warm, squirmy weight in his lap—that's unavoidable—but he stops moving away. He does what he’d wanted to before: he lets his arousal simmer in the back of his mind, a comfortable, undemanding pressure.

In turn, Dirk lets himself be completely open to Todd. He still nuzzles where he used to nuzzle, and sprawls across Todd where he used to sprawl, but now there are wet, bitey kisses being placed on the tender spots of Todd's neck, and seeking fingers tracing the elastic of his boxer shorts.  

It's wonderful, wonderful, wonderful.

And then, one day, with the sun trying to peek through the curtains, Dirk's explorative fingers grip Todd's shirt with more than a passing interest, and the kisses to his neck stray lower, scattering along his collarbone and down the front of his chest.

“Okay?” Dirk asks. “Is this okay, Todd?”

“Yes, yes,” Todd hurries to reply. “Yes.” Dirk helps him struggle out of his shirt; it's an effort getting it over his head considering neither of them want to break contact long enough to make that happen. They manage it, though, and there’s a great deal of rustling and fussing as Dirk untangles them both from the blankets before he ducks close and rubs his nose against Todd’s.

“You smell, mmm, so nice,” he murmurs, and Todd wiggles out from under him.

“I stink.”

“M-nope.” Dirk flops back against the pillows and flaps at Todd until they’re pressed chest to chest again. “Y’ smell _Todd-y_ .” His hands slide down to the small of Todd’s back, warm, _so warm_ , Dirk is _always_ warm. “Can I…” He turns bashful, tries to hide it somewhere around Todd’s chin. “...touch your bum?”

Which, honestly, has been a dream of _Todd’s_ ever since their first case, Dirk halfway up a fence and looking so, so ridiculous. He grins against Dirk, shifts slightly on top of him so that his bum is closer to Dirk’s hands. Replies, “Can I touch your thighs?” Thighs which are currently framing Todd’s hips—warm and soft and sturdy under the flannel of his pyjama pants.

It flusters Dirk, and Todd hurries to assure him that one doesn’t depend on the other—he can still touch his bum. But Dirk rolls his eyes and shakes his head, and before Todd can process it, Dirk has one palm cupping the swell of Todd’s ass and the other pushing Todd’s hand toward his thigh.

They stay like that, heads on each other’s shoulders, bare chests pressed together, holding each other, for another fifteen minutes. Until Dirk loses feeling in one of his legs and all but throws Todd off the bed trying to massage the blood back. Afterward, with a sheepish smile, he tucks his head in close and whispers, “That was nice.”

It was nice. It was lovely.

-xxx- 

Dirk still has nightmares. The first time Todd was around for one was the second time they shared a bed. The early stages of a Romantic Relationship weren’t Dirk’s preferred time for his newly-minted boyfriend to see him sweaty and snot-nosed (if it were up to him, Todd would _never_ see him like that) but nevertheless.

Dirk had woken up screaming. Once he’d come to and realised where he was, his heart had dropped, and he’d begun the process of extricating himself from the mess he’d made of the sheets. That’s when he’d felt Todd’s hand on his shoulder. It had apparently been there the whole time. He’d had to shake him awake.

“Dirk.” Todd’s voice was tentative. He didn’t sound appalled by Dirk’s behaviour. “Stop.” Which could have meant anything. But it didn’t mean ‘Stop, get out of my bed, you’re deranged,’ it meant, Dirk found out, ‘Stop trying to escape, come here, and let me hold you.’ Which he did. He did, and Todd kissed the shell of his ear, stroked his damp hair off his forehead, and never stopped talking. “You’re safe, you’re safe. It’s okay, Dirk, shhh, it’s okay. I got you. You’re safe.”

Having Todd there every time he wakes up from another nightmare means more to Dirk than he can say.

He knows, logically, that a human body cannot disintegrate upon touching another, and that by holding his hand Todd is in no actual danger, but that doesn’t carry through to the dreams. There, everything that happens is real and painful and all Dirk’s fault. On more than one occasion, Dirk has woken up to find Todd holding him and has physically thrown himself off the bed, trying to get away, to protect Todd.

So Todd has learned to pull back every time he wakes Dirk from a dream. Dirk can tell how much it hurts him to do so, how much he wants to hold on and protect Dirk, but he can’t do anything about it until the dream is no longer a heavy weight across his lungs, and Todd is whispering his mantra. “You’re safe, I’ve got you, you’re safe.”

-xxx-

But it’s not just Dirk who has trouble sleeping. He can _get_ to sleep just fine, it’s the staying asleep that’s the trouble. Todd has quite the opposite problem.

On the hard nights, which come occasionally and always in groups, every time Todd closes his eyes, he sees a swirl of neon greens and inky black-blues, 3D and moving and painful. And when it’s not that, it’s Dirk, back in Zackariah Webb’s basement, every square inch of him impaled on crossbow bolts, burning alive.  It hurts to close his eyes on those nights.

It all goes away when (if) he finally falls asleep, but there have been nights (at one point, three in a row) when he doesn’t get more than two hours sleep, or none at all. It’s connected to his pararibulitus, he knows. Every time he has an attack, it happens. The medication might help the pain, but they do nothing for the chaos behind his eyes.

Dirk knows about it, but much like his own nightmares, there’s not much to do when it’s all in Todd’s head. They take to falling asleep holding each other, taking turns being the big spoon, depending on how Todd’s feeling and whether Dirk has had any nightmares recently.

They’re a right pair, but at least they have each other.

-xxx-

The morning after The Bum Incident, Dirk sneaks up behind Todd at the stove and pinches his ass. Dirk’s shrill giggle of delight shocks Todd more than the pinch, and he backs Dirk up against the benchtop, hands stroking the smooth skin over Dirk’s ribs.

After that, they have to run errands for the agency, and Dirk spends the whole time with his hand in Todd’s back pocket. They get some seriously disapproving stares, but Dirk’s aura of general smugness keeps anyone from commenting (at least, not loudly enough for them to hear).

Todd has a particularly acute ass-related heart attack when he emerges from the bathroom that evening. He has a towel wrapped around his waist and is drying his hair with another when Dirk gasps, rockets up from the bed, drops to his knees in front of Todd, and presses his face into the damp skin on Todd’s stomach while kneading his ass through the towel.

Todd gets an instant, _very_ apparent erection, and Dirk bites the pudge under his belly button. “I think condoms, next.”

Todd nearly dies there and then.

-xxx-

Despite his declaration, Dirk is rather hesitant about taking a next step.

“I mean… I haven’t even seen your penis yet!” he announces one night over fried rice. “You haven’t seen mine! How do we know… how do we know we even _need_ condoms? How do we know we’ll use them?”

Todd finishes his mouthful and regards Dirk patiently. “We don’t know. Maybe we’ll never  need to use them. You can… maybe you’ll find a use for them on a case? Or we can donate them. Or just… let them sit in the bathroom cabinet. But… you’ve felt my penis, and I think I’ve felt yours, so… Not that, not that that mat— The point is, Dirk, we don’t know. Nothing is certain. No pressure, no expectations. Whatever you want.” He pauses. “Okay?”

Dirk nods. He’s turned bright red. “Yes, I know. I want, I do, I just… I’ve never…”

Todd is thankful their dining table is so small—their relationship has seen a lot of reassuring mid-meal hand-holding. “I know. That’s okay. I’ve never with you, either. We’re in this together.”

Dirk smiles and goes back to his food.

-xxx-

It’s Dirk who ends up buying the condoms. Todd had suggested that maybe the way for Dirk to feel more comfortable with the progression of their relationship and the possibility of sex was to take more control. “More input,” he had said, and Dirk had agreed. He is beginning to think, looking at Todd’s fondly exasperated smile, that he shouldn’t have.

“You said I needed to take control, so I did,” he defends himself. “And then I was just standing there, looking at… _everything_ , and I didn’t know what to do, so I just got bit of everything and now we have this problem.” He stares at Todd rather than at the metric ton of condoms and lube of all flavours, colours, and textures currently arrayed on their kitchen table. “I’m sorry?”

Todd’s chin wavers the way it does every time he wants to laugh but thinks he shouldn’t. Dirk loves his chin wibble. He especially loves it now because it means he’s not in trouble.

“You literally bought the store out of condoms, Dirk, don’t apologise. This is hilarious!” He scouts around the table until he finds a box that’s slightly larger than the rest. He hurries to open it and waves the contents in Dirk’s direction. “I mean, what the hell is this thing? It’s a silicone baby hand. It’s a tiny little baby hand to go on the end of your dick.” The snigger that has been trying to break free since Dirk walked in finally escapes. “Who wants that? Why is it attached to an actual condom? You’re never going to use that, it’s _literally_ just a little cap for your penis. _Why?_ ”

Now Dirk is laughing, too. The thing _is_ patently ridiculous. He says as much. “But,” Todd stops waving the hand around and fixes him with an apprehensive stare; Dirk hurries on before Todd can interrupt him. “It might look kind of cute?”

Dirk hadn’t known it was possible for the human jaw to drop so low. Todd stares at him for a long, long moment, and then seems to accept that he’s stuck in a relationship with an utter nutcase. He tucks the hand into his shirt pocket and sets off toward the bedroom. “Let me know when you’re ready to test that theory out.”

-xxx-

It's not until three days later that anything happens.

They are lying, as they often are, on the sofa, half-dressed and half-listening to the weatherman on the TV.

Todd is spread flat on his back against the cushions, his head propped up on one armrest, a blanket tucked under his neck, absentmindedly running his fingers through Dirk’s hair. He looks for all the world as if he’s two seconds away from falling asleep. Dirk has arranged himself on top of Todd, his cheek pressed against Todd’s ribs, his thighs comfortably bracketing Todds, and most of his legs dangling over the other armrest. For the last six minutes, while the weather in the background has drifted from ‘sun with slight nor-easterly gusts’ to ‘rain with chances of hail,’ Dirk has been pressing gentle, sucking kisses to the inside of Todd’s wrist.

It has, understandably, left quite a _physical_ impression on Todd. And, like usual, he has been letting the softly pulsing heat between his legs simmer unattended. Until, that is, Dirk catches wind of it and exhales a breathy little, “Oh” into Todd’s wrist. “Todd.”

It’s not a question, and Dirk doesn’t _sound_ worried (and he’s not very good at hiding when he _is_ ), but Todd’s heart picks up in concern nonetheless. “Yeah, Dirk?”

His answer, a shy touch of a warm, wet tongue to the heel of his palm, is shocking(ly arousing). “I think…” A long, steady intake of breath. A pause. Then, “You’re very warm.” 

And Todd assumes that that’s the end of that; that they’ll ignore his penis and carry on cuddling. He resumes the steady movement of his fingers through Dirk’s hair, winces when he catches a snag and presses an apologetic kiss to the bit of Dirk that’s closest to him: an arm, this time. 

“I should really wash it,” Dirk says. 

It has been two days since Todd can remember Dirk properly shampooing his hair, and it could definitely do with a bit of de-knotting, but a wash is hardly a burning necessity. Todd says as much, and catches an elbow in the ribs as Dirk wriggles upright.

“No,” he says, looking Todd in the eyes. “I should wash it. In the… in the shower?”

_Oh._ _Ohhh_. _Well then…_

“You want me to…”

Dirk nods. “I’m ready.”

Todd forgets about the weatherman and the fact that his hair has only just dried from his own shower, and grabs Dirk’s hand, pulling him to his feet. He stretches forward to steal a kiss, as much of a reassurance for Dirk as it is a comfort for himself, and Dirk leads them into the bathroom, blushing and fidgeting nervously with the hem of his shirt. He is beautiful.

Todd wants to ravish him. Wants to see how he looks desperate and begging, how he looks when he cums, when he’s spent and exhausted and slumped, pliable and cuddly, over Todd’s chest. It’s uttterly inappropriate, feels like he’s stealing something from Dirk, taking advantage of something pure and untouchable…

He is pulled from his thoughts by the real thing. The first thing Todd notices is that Dirk has somehow lost his shirt between the bathroom door and the shower. The second is that the usual flush on Dirk’s cheeks has spread to his chest. The third is that he really, really wants to get in the shower with his boyfriend. His boyfriend who is growing more and more nervous by the second.

“C’mere,” Todd says, folding his arms around Dirk and letting him bury his head in Todd’s shoulder. “Only if you want to.”

“I want to.”

They stay pressed close like that while the water heats up, and then Todd gently pushes Dirk away, just far enough to be able to meet his eyes, to make sure he truly _is_ okay with what’s happening. “I’m going to get in first, okay?” He strips out of his shirt, pauses to let Dirk’s fingers trace over his ribs and down his spine. “And then you can join me whenever you’re ready.” His jeans are the next to go. “Sound good?” At Dirk’s nod, he removes his boxers until he’s standing naked in the middle of their bathroom.

The shower is warm, bordering on too hot. Just the way he knows Dirk likes it. Todd ignores the outline of Dirk through the frosted glass, tries to pretend this is just a normal shower like he takes every day. He doesn’t listen to the rustling on the other side of the door to try and deduce exactly what Dirk is doing; he just focuses on the fact that he’s there.

“Todd?”

“Yeah?” he asks, as if this is any other day, any other conversation yelled through the bathroom door.

“I’m coming in.” And just like that, Todd is holding a wet, slippery, very naked Dirk Gently.

He grins. “Oh, hello.”

Dirk’s returning smile is shy, but once he discovers that co-showering means uninterrupted Todd-Touching-Dirk Time, he loses the tension he’d been unconsciously holding. It takes a while before Dirk feels comfortable enough to take advantage of the second benefit of showering together: being able to touch _Todd_ as often as he likes. Slowly, his hands make their way to the small of Todd’s back, massaging in ever-increasing spirals until his hands are brushing Todd’s shoulders. In return, Todd rubs Dirk’s favourite shampoo between his palms, and nudges Dirk until he lowers his head to Todd’s level.

The third benefit: Dirk gets a small, gentle-handed minion to wash his hair for him. A win-win scenario all ‘round.

Todd has his hand cupped protectively over Dirk's eyes, but it's less of an actual barrier from the suds than it is a kind gesture, so Dirk wiggles them around until Todd is standing under the spray with Dirk pressed in a long, sinuous line along his back. Slowly, so slowly, Dirk’s hand strays between Todd’s legs.

He keeps one hand around Todd’s shoulders as if in an attempt to distract him, so Todd pretends not to notice. Well, as much as one can ‘not notice’ when there is suddenly one single, very gentle finger stroking along one’s penis.

Dirk’s exploration pauses at the head of Todd’s cock, which is now starting to fill up as it realises that it might be getting some attention, and Dirk stops, breathes against Todd’s neck. “Is this…?

“Mmm” is, embarrassingly, all Todd can manage. He clears his throat and tilts his head to demand a kiss. “Yes.” There. Better.

The kiss seems to satisfy Dirk, so Todd doesn’t allow himself to worry too long over his own lack of finesse. There are much better things to think about, like the heat of Dirk’s hand around his cock,  the slow undulations of Dirk’s hips against Todd’s back, the breathy little moans he lets out each time he rocks forward.

It all goes very quickly from there.

One moment, Dirk is reaching with a heady kind of uncertainty beneath Todd, fingers brushing the sensitive skin of his balls, eliciting a strangled cry of surprise from him and nearly scaring Dirk half out of his skin; the next, Todd is biting his knuckles and spending himself over Dirk’s fist, the other man following shortly after with a bright, brilliant laugh.

“That,” Dirk whispers into the steam of the shower, “was amazing.”

Todd makes a happy little noise that is nearly swallowed up by the shower spray, and it suddenly becomes very important that Dirk sees his face. He pats gently at Todd’s hips, leading him around in a circle until they’re facing each other once again.

Dirk presses his smile into Todd’s chin, shivering with happiness and tracing indiscernible patterns over Todd’s back. When the water sputters and runs cold, he slips his palm into Todd’s and leads them both—wrapped in towels and still dripping—into the lounge to resume their position on the sofa.

-xxx-

“Todd?” Dirk’s voice is muffled, which is always a cause for concern. “Todd!” With Dirk, Todd is never sure whether he’s just gotten too comfortable on the sofa and wants his tea made for him, or if he’s got himself stuck in the oven again.

“Here!” Todd’s as close to running as he ever is inside their apartment. 

“Be here faster!” A long pause. “Please.”

As much as he wants to, Todd can’t pretend to hold in the laugh bubbling in his chest. “Are you okay, Dirk?”

“No! Depends on your definition… Yes. I suppose. Also, no. My phone is ringing!”

“Jesus,” Todd mutters to himself. “And you can’t just get it yourself?” Looking inside the bathroom however, it’s clear the answer to that is an easy no. “Why are you shaving your thigh?” He fumbles to answer Dirk’s phone, wedging it between his shoulder and chin. “Yes? Oh, hi, Farah. Yeah, he’s here. You know how he is with phones, after… Yeah, no, we’re fine. Just… Are you-- can we add some stuff to the agency budget? He’s got this whole list. He wants the extra-thick kitchen towels, and some cold cream? Yeah. Yep. Okay. Right, yep. See ya.”

“It was Farah!” Dirk beams up at him, arse squeezed between the sink and the towel rail.

Todd stares at him. “Worked that out, actually.” He puts down the phone and moves to smooth his hands along Dirk’s shoulders, lingering against the delicate wings of his shoulder blades.

The idiot with his foot in the sink at least has the decency to look at little sheepish. “I have to keep you busy somehow. When I upgraded you from assistant, you agreed to take on new responsibilities.”

“I thought my ‘new responsibilities’ were just kissing you and touching your dick.”

He says it because he _knows_ it will get a reaction from Dirk. And it does. Fighting a fierce blush, Dirk stammers, “W-well… Also answering-- answering my calls.”

Todd takes pity and stretches up for a kiss. “So,” he says, sucking gently on Dirk’s tongue, “you didn’t answer me. Why’re you shaving?”

“Smooth thighs.” As if that’s an answer.

“You already have smooth thighs.”

“Not _properly_ ,” Dirk whines. He sounds truly bothered and Todd slides his hands up and under his shirt, petting his sides until he softens and ducks his head down to rest briefly against Todd’s shoulder.

“You can do whatever, Dirk, I don’t mind. Shave your eyebrows and I won’t feel any different. But…” He glances at the packet of razors sitting open on the basin (brand-new, because Dirk can’t grow facial hair to save his life), and he wonders… “You don’t have to shave for me. If that’s… if that’s what you’re doing.”

Dirk’s silence is all the answer Todd needs to know for certain. The silly man has taken up the idea that he needs to be freshly shaven before he and Todd are ‘allowed’ to do anything. Todd _knew_ that the women’s magazine he’d seen Dirk with had been a sign of bad things to come.

“Babe.” They never use pet names, and it sounds wooden coming out of Todd’s mouth, but Dirk relaxes into the sound of it. “You’re perfect right now, okay? Even with shaving foam in your eyebrows.” Dirk’s laugh is wet, but he smiles when Todd runs his thumb over his forehead. “Now, if you want to finish up here, give me the razor, because it’s obvious you’ve never had to shave yourself. Otherwise, get your ass in the shower and clean up."

The speed with which Dirk drops the razor is almost comical, but he kisses Todd’s laughter right out of his mouth as he hurries them out of their clothes and into the shower.

-xxx-

When they finally (and Todd hesitates to say finally because it makes it sound like waiting was a tremendous burden he had to bear) have sex, it's nothing at all how either of them had pictured it.

If pressed, Todd would have confessed he had expected the whole thing to be rather awkward. Sure, he would have liked to say the ‘right’ thing, and promise that he’d never had doubts about any of it, but honestly. This was him and Dirk they were talking about. Dirk, who struggled to string two words together when he saw a crop top on _anyone_ , who had struggled to look Amanda in the eye for _weeks_ when he’d seen a g-string in her laundry basket.

Add to that Todd’s almost unerring talent for putting his foot in his mouth in the _worst_ possible situations, and one could hardly expect a picture-perfect first time.

Dirk, on the other hand, could quite easily imagine Todd breezing through the whole process, simple as breathing, _just barely_ managing to summon enough patience to see Dirk through to the no doubt disappointing finale.

Despite their post-shower success, he was still having difficulty understanding how he—weedy and inexperienced and all elbows—could be enticing for Todd. They would, Dirk had assumed, endure several bouts of underwhelming sex until he began to find his footing. The universe would, as it always did, manage to get them where they needed to be. However long that took.

Instead, the whole thing comes about incredibly organically.

One moment, Dirk is bundled under the duvet, running his fingers over the sparse dusting of hair on Todd’s chest, and the next, Todd is sliding their fingers together and rearranging them until the covers are tangled at their feet, their mouths pressed together, slick and warm.

“I want to touch you,” Todd breathes against his chin, and Dirk nods frantically. The comfortably warm feeling he’s been nurturing during their lazy morning in bed is quickly being replaced by a burning heat low in his stomach.

“Please,” he begs.

Todd grins, his hands travelling down Dirk’s body, lingering against the ticklish skin over his ribs, and finally dipping beneath the loose pyjama bottoms. “Good?” he asks.

All Dirk can do is nod. It’s too early in the morning to find the words he would need to express just _how_ good it feels. Plus, he thinks if he starts talking now, he’d never be able to stop.

Slowly, tenderly, Todd’s hand wraps around Dirk’s cock, thumb over the already-leaking head, and squeezes just so.

Dirk will never get used to the feel of that, of someone else’s hands on him. Of _Todd’s_ hands on him.

Once Dirk is squirming against the pillows, opening his thighs as wide as they’ll go, and grabbing aimlessly at Todd’s shoulders, Todd eases up. Dirk, who had been right on the edge of cumming, squeezes his eyes shut and breathes, wishing Todd would bring his face closer and kiss him.

Which, of course, is exactly what Todd does, because he is perfect and a mind-reader. “Hi,” he says. “You okay?”

Dirk lets himself be kissed for a long while, and then he asks, “Let me do you?” He reaches between Todd’s legs, feeling the wet patch Todd has been leaking into his thigh. Instead of grazing his fingers over the coarse black hair there (which Dirk had _never_ imagined prior to getting intimate with Todd, but wishes he had, because it’s one of his favourite things), he meets Todd’s own hand.

“If you want…” He trails off, nudges Dirk with his nose. “Or we could do something else?”

Dirk’s heart _thuds_ against his ribcage, and suddenly that’s all he wants—Todd inside him, hip to hip, his breath against Dirk’s shoulder. He wants to run his hands through Todd’s hair, along his back, his shoulders, his _bum_.

Todd laughs. “I take it from your expression that that’s a yes?”

“Yes,” Dirk says. “Yes, very yes.”

And then there is a very naked Todd stretching across a very naked Dirk, a great deal of fumbling in the drawers for lube and condoms, laughter and curses when Todd comes up with the baby hand, and then… success.

Then there are Dirk’s hands clutching at Todd’s arms, and he buries his face in his pillow while gentle hands part his thighs and a single finger rubs itself against his hole. There are kisses pressed to his mouth, and then to each nipple (these especially gentle and fleeting, because Dirk is so, so sensitive), and then to his navel, his hip bones, the tender, untouched skin of his thighs, and then…

And then, when Dirk is damp-eyed and heaving with each breath he drags in past his red-bitten lips, there is a kiss to his tailbone, to the curve of each buttock, and then, and then, and then…

And then, finally, just when it all borders on too much, and Dirk is beginning to wonder how _anyone ever deals with this much sensation_ , there is Todd’s face staring down at him, eyes soft and full of wonder, cheeks and chest tingled with arousal.

“Okay?” he asks, because he always asks.

“Yes, god.” Dirk clutches at him, drags him down by the back of his neck for a bruising kiss, licking Todd’s giddy laughter out of his mouth, sucking down his joy, and pressing his thigh between Todd’s legs, trying to give as much as he is getting.

And then, Todd fits their hands together beside Dirk’s head and settles his forehead against Dirk’s, and while they’re looking each other in the eye, both teary and messy and overwhelmed, Todd lines himself up and gives a single push, and then he is _inside_ , and Dirk has never felt anything like it.

After that, Dirk’s brain goes offline for a bit. It boots up again when Todd is sliding out of him, slow and gentle and full of praise (so much praise). Dirk feels his own grin, knows it looks stupid and ridiculous and far too big for his face, but he is boneless and satisfied and he has _just shared an orgasm with his boyfriend_ , so he doesn’t let himself care.

“That was--” he mumbles, and Todd collapses half on top of him.

“Yeah,” he laughs. “That was.”

Satisfied that that is the best endorsement he will ever achieve, Dirk tightens his arms around Todd and closes his eyes.

Turns out that he had known exactly what to do, after all.

-xxx-

Watching Todd do anything is wonderful. Dirk could stand back and watch Todd walk from the fridge to the oven a million times and never grow tired of it. He's beautiful.

Now, standing at the bathroom sink, toothpaste foam dribbling down his chin, when Dirk knows exactly how it feels to have Todd inside him, he is particularly beautiful.

His hair is sticking out in all directions, he's got one sock on, his shirt half-buttoned, and he's still rubbing sleep from his eyes with his free hand. Dirk forgets why he came into the bathroom in the first place,  and props himself against the door to look his fill.

Todd meets his eyes in the mirror. He grins around his toothbrush. “Hey, good looking.”

Dirk blushes. He's only wearing a pair of Todd's boxer shorts, and what Todd affectionately calls his ‘granddad slippers.’

“Hey,” he says.

Todd spits and rinses, fixes his hair in a few swift motions. “You slept well?”

Dirk nods. “Did you?”

“Next to you? Of course.” Which, given what they’d done before they fell asleep, does nothing to help Dirk’s blush. In fact, after the events of yesterday morning, they could barely keep their hands off each other to eat lunch. “Much planned for today?”

"I need to pick up some supplies for the new case. We need spanners and paper clips and at least thirty seven mid-quality cast iron pans.”

Todd pauses in buttoning his trousers. “Cast iron pans? Dirk, I don't know if we have the mon--”

“Shush. I talked to Farah. She says it's fine.” He steps closer to Todd and fixes his collar for him. “Are you going to be very busy today?”

Todd's work outside the detective agency rarely interferes with cases, but it does occasionally impinge on Date Nights. “Nope. I'll be done by three. Pick you up from the office myself.”

“From the playground near the office?”

Todd sighs. “Remind me why you need to be at the play-- No, you know what, fine. All fine. I'll meet you at the slide.”

Dirk grins and ducks down to press their mouths together. Todd's is minty fresh. “Great! Have a good day at work."

“I'll try.” Todd's smiling, but he's definitely working up to saying something. Before Dirk can begin to worry, Todd's palms smooth over his shoulder blades and dip down to the small of his back. “I love you. Remember to eat lunch.”

Before Dirk can even consider a response (or remember how to talk), Todd presses a final, sweet kiss to his lips and ducks out of the room.

When Todd picks him up that evening, Dirk is balancing thirty seven pans in his arms, and has a string of paper clips around his neck, three spanners tucked into the waistband of his jeans, and a red rose between his teeth. Todd laughs all the way home.

 -xxx-xxx-

**Author's Note:**

> For all who are interested, the baby hand condom is a real thing, you can find [a Facts. video where they try to puzzle out any possible justification for it's existence, here. ](https://youtu.be/RNgUQWXIix8?t=2m53s)
> 
> If you still want to, you can hear more from me at my tumblr [spacehubsands,](http://spacehubsands.tumblr.com/) where I post a bit of everything, as long as it's gay(ish)


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